


The One Where Chris is Drunk and Anton is Pissed

by colazitron



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-25
Updated: 2009-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anton is picked on (or up?) and Chris doesn't like it. So he punches the guy. Anton doesn't like that. He likes blood on his boyfriends face though. Just not right now. Or does he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Chris is Drunk and Anton is Pissed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevenpoints](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenpoints/gifts).



**center >The One Where Chris is Drunk and Anton is Pissed**

+++

 

Chris was late. As usual.

Lucky for Anton (and even more lucky for Chris, actually), they weren’t on a date tonight; they were meeting up with Zach. And Karl, should the Kiwi be able to make it. Karl usually did make it when lured with alcohol and the opportunity to observe Chris make a drunken fool of himself.

It wasn’t like Chris was an alcoholic or a completely ridiculous drunk. He knew when to stop, didn’t actually indulge himself all that often – especially since he and Anton had started dating, seeing as Anton was still under the legal drinking age – and normally didn’t act up. He was just ridiculously open and emotional when drunk.

Now, Chris was always emotional and open and affectionate and touchy-feely but when he took on this drunk, lop-sided grin and the slight haze that seemed to incapacitate him from keeping up with Zach’s word games settled around his mind, it was just brought to a whole new level. Karl called him a “drunk teddy-bear”. Probably in retaliation for Chris labelling Karl a teddy-bear no matter if he was drunk or not.

Anton sighed and shook his head. This night was probably going to be just like every other night he went out with his older ex and future cast mates. Which really wasn’t a bad thing, actually. He usually had fun on those nights. It was just that, tonight, he really didn’t feel up to any of this. He shortly debated bailing. Then again, he thought, maybe the others would manage to get him out of this mood.

Zach already sat next to him on a bar stool and smiled sympathetically at the younger man’s rather visible frustration.

“He’s always late,” Zach felt like pointing out and wondered why he was trying to defend Chris. He also hoped his friend at least had the decency to show up on time for dates with his boyfriend.

“Yeah, I know,” Anton just replied and shrugged his shoulders. It really wasn’t that big of a deal for him anymore. Having actually left Chris’ with him on a few occasions now, he really didn’t blame Chris anymore because he knew that he was ready to the point of where he only had to put on his shoes and _walk through the door_ at least five to ten minutes before he’d actually have to, and still managed to make that take at least 15 and ultimately end up being late. How he did it, Anton couldn’t tell. It was like Chris existed in a different time-space continuum that bent weirdly whenever he left his house.

Zach emptied his glass of Anton-had-forgotten-what and then glanced over his shoulder and back at his friend.

“I just need to go to the bathroom. You’ll be okay?”

That actually coaxed Anton’s lips into an amused little smile.

“Zach, I’m not a child, I can manage surviving a few minutes without supervision, I think,” he answered and ushered Zach away with a wave of his hand. Zach winked at him, showing him that he merely wanted to get that smile and slid off the bar stool, making his way through the crowded bar.

Anton heaved another sigh and turned back to his tonic water. Being a movie star was great but it sucked when the bar tender recognized you. He could use at least a beer right now. Shrugging his shoulders internally he figured he had survived without legal alcohol until now, he’d make it till next March as well.

“Yo boyfriend leave you all alone here, pretty boy?”

It was the slightly drunk drawl that first pulled his attention to the slightly older man that leant next to him on the counter. Anton estimated the guy to be two or three years younger than Chris, but still a good deal older than himself. There was anther guy next to him, looking just as beefy as the first and a glance over his shoulder told Anton that he was efficiently trapped on this stool.

He raised a non-impressed eyebrow.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he clarified.

The guy smiled. Rather lecherously, too. Anton barely suppressed the exasperated and disgusted eye-roll. Why did this have to happen tonight of all nights?

“Well, he’s missin’ out on somethin’ then, ain’t that right, boys?”

The cronies grunted their approval.

“Pretty face like yours,” the guy cooed and reached for him. Anton raised a stern eyebrow and non-verbally sent a very clear “don’t you _dare_ ” at the guy. He did dare. Running his thumb over the young actor’s bottom lip he seemingly felt the need for more taunts.

“I bet ya lips look fuckin’ fantastic stretched round my dick,” he grinned, baring most of his teeth. Well, at least they were decent teeth, Anton thought sarcastically and snatched the guys wrist, wrenching it from his face and easily twisting it. _Hard_.

Which was the scene Zach came back to. He looked at the hellishly annoyed Anton and the very surprised beefy guy and cronies and raised one eyebrow before addressing his friend, with a slight grin in his voice.

“This townie isn’t bothering you, right?”

Anton actually snorted a little in laughter at that, grinning wide at Zach.

“Oh, beyond belief. But it’s nothing I can’t handle,” he replied. Turning to the guy whose wrist was still prisoner to his hand, his expression shifted back to annoyance and cold rejection.

“Leave,” he requested and let go of the hand. The guy pulled it close to his body and started rubbing it with his other hand glaring at the young man he had obviously deemed an easy victim. Anton still wasn’t sure whether he had been trying to pick _on_ him or pick him _up_.

Mumbling something under his breath that neither Anton nor Zach could understand, but was clearly not very polite, he left, the two other guys following him.

“If they don’t show up soon, I’m out of here,” Anton huffed annoyed and downed the rest of his tonic water, now really wishing for something alcoholic, though he supposed he shouldn’t. Drinking in a bad mood only ever made it worse. And his mood had dropped to sub-zero at the run-in with idiot-boy just now. Zach pushed his beer bottle closer to Anton and pulled his cell out of his jeans pocked.

“I’ll try his cell again,” he announced and speed-dialled Chris. Laughter and the music from the bar they were in right now greeted him when Chris picked up.

“We just walked through the front door. Jesus, aren’t you eager tonight,” Chris teased and Zach didn’t bother replying and just hung up. They always met up at the counter before finding a table, so Chris would know where to find them. He just hoped Chris and Karl weren’t that drunk yet. Those two with alcohol in close proximity just weren’t really that great of an idea. Not with Anton being around and in the mood he was in.

Zach suppressed an annoyed groan. Oh dear.

“They just got in,” he informed Anton and was glad to see that he allowed a little of the tension to leave at the prospect of seeing Chris. When Anton wanted to, he could be downright stubborn, especially about being pissed off at someone. Zach was really glad he wasn’t Chris during those moments.

“Hey guys,” Karl greeted them, when he and Chris had made their way to the counter and pulled each of them in a manly one-handed clap on the back kind of hug. Chris and Zach just grinned at each other, Zach raising a dispraising eyebrow at Chris making Anton wait. Even if it wasn’t strictly speaking a date.

Anton got a kiss on the temple from Chris, even though the older male really wasn’t big on PDA. Maybe coming out would change that, but until then he liked to keep the cuddling in the closet along with his preferences. But Chris was also a rather empathic person and Anton’s sour mood obviously topped his want for secrecy.

After having ordered his drink, he put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders and pulled him closer. Anton tucked his head beneath Chris’ chin and let his face fall in tired exasperation.

“You’re late”, he accused, sounding every bit a whiny and petulant child. Chris only chuckled a little though, ruffled his hair and pushed him upright again.

“Sorry,” he offered, because there really wasn’t that much else he could do. Not while in a bar, anyway.

After having paid for and collected his drink from the bar tender, he slung the arm back around Anton and naturally guided him to a table in the back, trusting Zach and Karl to follow. Sometimes Zach saw so much of Kirk in him he had to wonder how casting had managed to miss it the first time around.

+++

The evening had actually turned out to be rather pleasant. Chris had easily teased Anton back into good spirits and the continued bickering between Chris and Karl was enough to keep anyone entertained. Finally Zach, Anton and Karl had decided that Chris had had too little to eat and too much to drink that evening (even though Karl really wasn’t that far behind) and persuaded him to call in for the night.

It was when they pushed through the crowd towards the door that it went to hell.

On their way they passed the idiot that had bothered Anton earlier that evening. He was obviously still pissed about having been showed up by a guy a few years younger than him and sought to make his … discontent know. Disregarding the fact that Anton was now accompanied by three guys bigger than himself, he reached out, lightly shoved his shoulder and growled out a final insult.

“Sleep tight, little fag.”

Anton didn’t bother with more than an eye roll, but Chris rounded on the guy, stepping up into his personal space and looming over him in all his trained, muscled and angry glory.

“What did you just call him?” he asked. The disbelief was clearly evident in his voice.

“Please, Chris, don’t bother,” Anton interjected. Both older men ignored him.

“Nothin’ he ain’t,” the guy challenged. It was remarkable, really, how close stupidity and bravery seemed to lie.

Chris didn’t ask any more questions after that, just drew his fist back and had it connect with the guy’s chin, with a crack that sounded slightly worrying. The guy stumbled back but readily took a swing at Chris too.

“Chris!” Anton bellowed out in a warning tone. It was only a matter of time until papps would catch wind of this. A matter of minutes mostly, these days. And nothing sucked more than having to explain to agents, PR-people and three-hundred-thousand interviewers why they had started a bar fight.

Chris didn’t listen. Instead he kneed the guy in the gut and grunted at the head-butt he received in retaliation. The music in the bar had stopped now and quite a few people had gathered around to watch. The bar tender was shouting for them to take it outside.

It was a little impressive how Chris would stumble when drunk but could still very well hold his own when in a fight.

Some people began wondering where they had seen this scene before now. But it was when something else than fists came crashing down on a surprised Chris’ arm that anyone actually stepped in.

In a matter of seconds, Anton had twisted the arm that had just smashed a glass bottle onto his boyfriend so far up the back of the still nameless asshole, he bent over a little to escape the pain. Unforgiving he grabbed the guy’s shoulder and pulled him back up.

“I’ll only repeat this once,” he hissed and watched out if the corner of his eye how Zach inspected Chris’ hand that had deflected the glass. Karl stood somewhere behind him, looming dangerously and keeping the guy’s friends from coming to his aid.

“Leave.”

With that he pushed him towards his friends and whirled around to glare at Chris. The blonde wisely kept quiet. For a moment it looked like Anton would throw a fit, right there in the middle of the bar, but then he exhaled a laboured breath and turned to Zach and Karl.

“I’ll take him home,” he announced and grabbed Chris’ uninjured wrist, pulling him forward.

“Need some help?” Karl offered, looking between the still rather inebriated Chris and the smaller Anton.

“No, just… could you take care of this here?” he asked and waited only for the short nod he got from Karl and the “sure” Zach tried to smile before pulling Chris out the door.

“Anton…” Chris tried, but said man rounded on him, fire in his eyes and shoved his index finger at him.

“No. _Don’t_ talk to me right now,” he demanded and then boldly stepped onto the street to stop a cab. He held the door open for Chris expectantly and got in after him, giving the driver Chris’ address. The rather short drive went by in silence, Anton pointedly staring out of the window and Chris trying to examine his damaged hand in the dim light of the street lamps they were passing.

Chris paid and tipped the driver and followed his still very pissed boyfriend up the stairs over his patio to the front door. Once inside, Anton slipped out of his shoes and roughly pulled his jacket off. Under different circumstances Chris would have thought that hot.

“You gonna be mad at me all night?” he asked and slipped out of his own shoes.

“We need to clean you up,” was the only answer he received. He figured it meant “yes”.

Deeming it best to play along, he didn’t complain when Anton pushed him through the bedroom into the adjoining bathroom. The lights were so bright both of them reflexively screwed their eyes shut when Anton turned them on. Pulling a wash cloth out of the shelf and turning the tap, the younger man rounded on his boyfriend. Chris was glad to note that while the anger hadn’t left Anton’s eyes, his touch was still careful and tender as he turned his hand, inspecting it. He put the wash cloth down and reached for the tweezers. There were glass shards stuck in Chris’ skin.

“I’m sorry,” Chris said. Anton looked up into his eyes.

“I’m angry,” he stated and then turned back to his hand.

“I know. I’m sorry,” the blonde repeated. Anton pulled a little piece of glass out of the back of Chris’ wrist and flushed it down the drain.

“I asked you not to,” he reminded the man he was currently nursing, going back to said task. Chris sighed.

“He called you a fag,” he tried explaining. Anton pulled another shard out of his hand before looking up incredulously.

“Chris, I am a fag.”

“You’re not!” Chris immediately protested. Anton’s lips twitched in a way that looked more cruel than amused.

“Yes, I am. I’m dating you, am I not?” He let his eyes fall back to the other man’s hand and looked for more glass. Finding none, he put down the tweezers and reached for the wash cloth again, soaking it in water.

“You know that’s not the way he meant it,” Chris pointed out and watched as Anton squeezed the excess water out of the cloth before carefully dabbing at his skin with it, catching the drying blood and cleaning it off.

“I don’t care about that, you know that. And you shouldn’t either.” He rinsed out the blood, before returning the cloth to Chris’ hand, beginning his task all over again.

“But I _do_. You’re beautiful and smart and talented and funny and overall so fucking perfect I don’t know how I could possibly deserve you and I don’t want anyone else calling you something less than that. I don’t ever want you _thinking_ you’re less than that.” Chris was definitely pouting now (and damn if Anton didn’t know by heart how ridiculously cute Chris looked when he pouted) and he pushed his nose into Anton’s cheek, who turned away from the endearing action with more reluctance than was to his liking.

“Stop it, Chris, I’m still mad at you,” he told the older man, who nuzzled his ear.

“I know. But I still love you,” he murmured and sent chills and sparks all across Anton’s body and mind. It wasn’t the first time Chris had said those three words to him, but they still amazed him every time he heard them.

“I’m serious, you’re all messed up,” Anton continued, pulling his head further away from Chris.

“But you like me messed up,” Chris grinned and nibbled at his ear, before Anton pushed him away.

“Not now, Chris,” he complained. There was still that edge to his voice that showed Chris that Anton was pissed at him. So he backed up, but gave his best saucy grin, before running his tongue over his split lip and revelling at the glare Anton directed at him. Because he knew that glare was actually meant for Anton himself.

Anton cursed his brain for only now noticing the rough look the blood on his boyfriend’s face gave him. He clenched his teeth together and concentrated on cleaning his hand. He was not going to give Chris the satisfaction of giving in. Yes, he did have a thing for messed up men. Maybe just for messed up Chris. But it was not going to win over him right now. Because right now he was far too mad at Chris for that totally unnecessary stunt he pulled that had on top of everything gotten him hurt too.

Having cleaned the hand of most of the blood, he took the wash cloth up to Chris’ face, doing his best to ignore the grin and winks and twinkling in Chris’ eyes while cleaning him off. Having to stare at the red streaks all over that smooth and deliciously non-perfect skin really wasn’t helping.

He ignored the voice in the back of his head that told him he could just leave Chris to do this himself, that he was definitely sober enough to do it on his own.

It was almost funny, really how the blood came off bit by bit, but Chris’ cheeky grin didn’t change a bit. The obvious “I know you want me” still clearly spelled in his eyes looked almost out of place on his blood-free face. But Anton wouldn’t ever again make the mistake of thinking these baby-blues in front of him were anything other than sassy. Especially not while they held this look.

But, damnit, why did Chris have to chose the classic blue jeans, white t-shirt combination today of all days. Anton frowned at himself.

He finished cleaning Chris up in silence, growing more aggravated by himself every minute and bandaged Chris’ hand, before abruptly standing up and turning to leave Chris in all his James Dean-esque glory sitting in the bath room.

Only Chris would have none of that.

Getting up he reached out and took hold of one of the belt loops of Anton’s own jeans and used it to pull him back against his chest. He immediately wound both arms around his young lover’s waist and firmly held him in place. Anton didn’t even bother struggling.

“Let me go,” he merely demanded in a no nonsense kind of voice.

“Now, why would I want to do that?” Chris’ voice rumbled, like it always did when he lowered his voice to that particular pitch he used on Anton. Normally that pitch had Anton squirming and smiling. Now it made him frown deeper and grip Chris’ arms.

“Because I asked you to,” he hissed and pulled at Chris’ unmoving arms.

“But I’m not done with you yet,” Chris whispered and slipped one of his hands up under Anton’s t-shirt a little, stroking the tense abs. His teeth tugged at Anton’s ear at the same time.

“I’m serious, Chris, get off me,” Anton requested again.

“Oh, come on, Anton,” Chris tried cajoling him. His hand trailed the waist band of Anton’s jeans. “You can’t seriously say you don’t want me. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you looked at me just a few minutes ago.”

Anton clenched his teeth together and dug his nails into Chris’ arms, who hissed at the pain.

“I swear to God, if you don’t let me go _this instant_ , I’m gonna scream.”

Not wanting to test that statement, Chris loosened his hold on the younger man, but kept his hands around him anyway.

“I know you’re mad at me, and I’m sorry, but, please, let me make it up to you,” he asked and placed a small kiss on Anton’s neck. In stead of giving in to or even just appreciating the small gesture though, Anton whirled around in Chris’ arms, his hands balled into fists and his angry eyes shining with tired and frustrated unshed tears.

“You think you can just fuck me into forgiving you when you screw up? God, Chris, d’you really think I’m that _cheap_?!”

The teasing smile on Chris’ face immediately fell and left behind a look of complete shock. It quickly changed into one of anger to match Anton’s though.

“What the fuck, Yelchin?” he accused and gripped the younger man’s shoulders. “What’s with you tonight?”

“What’s with me? What’s with _me_?” He took the last tiny step until he was all up in Chris’ personal space so he could spit the words directly in his too prettily messed up face.

“I’ll tell you what’s with me. I spent forty-five minutes waiting for my boyfriend who didn’t even bother texting me, had to deal with some drunk homophobic or desperate idiot and then later with my idiot boyfriend that couldn’t keep his aggression in check. So excuse me, Christopher, for not putting out, even though you do seem to think that sex can solve any problem.”

“Oh yeah?” Chris bit back and grabbed Anton’s chin, forcing a hard kiss onto him and walking him back into the bed room at the same time, so that Anton had trouble not falling over his own feet, let alone fighting Chris off.

“Strangely enough, it doesn’t seem to be working,” he growled sarcastically and gave a cruel smile. “Maybe I need to try harder?”

The speed with which he pulled Anton’s jeans and boxers down over his hips roughly surprised the younger man just as much as the shove that had him stumbling backwards and falling onto the bed.

“Maybe you should stop,” he suggested just as cruelly.

“Oh, but according to you, I believe this is going to solve all the issues we have.” Chris pulled the garments off Anton's legs and crawled on top of his young lover, held him down at his hips and claimed his lips in another harsh kiss.

“I seriously don’t even know how you come up with this shit,” he hissed and bit Anton’s neck. Anton pulled at his hair, trying to remove his head.

"Get off."

Chris ground down into him. “I was trying to defend you.”

“I’m not a child that needs defending.” Anton hissed out, still pulling. The blonde pulled out his hands from in between their bodies and pinned Anton’s wrist to the mattress, piercing Anton’s unyielding gaze with his own.

“Yes, you are. You’re bratty and insolent. You’re spoiled and sassy. You always assume the worst when in fact I’m trying to show you that I care for you. God, how could you _ever_ …” Chris broke off, shaking his head, releasing Anton’s wrists and instead cradling his face with surprising tenderness, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

“God, lyubimaya, how could you think that?” he asked, sounding genuinely hurt.

Despite himself Anton’s lips quirked a little at the awkward way Chris’ tongue still stumbled around the Russian endearment and he let him fall back down on top of him, winding his arms around him, squashing them beneath both their bodies. He buried his face in Chris’ neck and clung to the back of his shirt.

“I don’t like it when you treat me like I can’t take care of myself,” he mumbled into skin and white cotton. It smelled so much of Chris, it immediately put him at ease. “It makes me feel like I’m just some kid you put up with.”

“You’re so stupid,” Chris mumbled back. Anton briefly thought (hoped) to himself that he probably wouldn’t have made such a big deal out of this if this night hadn’t gone from bad to worse and than a few levels lower.

“Listen to me,” Chris said and pushed himself up so he could look Anton in the face.

“Listen to me, Anton. I don’t think of you as a child. I don’t put up with you. I think you’re amazing. I admire how you’re so grown up at only twenty when I spent my time being post-pubescent at that age. I adore the awkward way you laugh in company and how you’re still self-conscious even after years of working in this business. I love almost every moment I get to spend with you and I’m still not sure what I did to convince you to give me a shot, but I figure it’s got something to do with how hot I look all beat up.”

He winked at Anton at the last comment and offered a reassuring smile. Anton gave a small smile back and blinked back the tears that were stinging in his eyes.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted and tenderly touched the bruise that was forming on Chris’ cheek.

“Does it hurt?” he asked and Chris nodded his head pitifully.

“Kiss it better?” The ridiculously adorable pout was back and how was Anton supposed to resist that, now that his anger had decided to give up and desert him? So he lifted his head and placed a gentle kiss onto the abused skin and upon seeing Chris’ happy smile and remembering that he still lay there half naked, he decided to indulge him a little.

“You hurt somewhere else?” he asked, a smile gracing his finally relaxed features. Chris bumped their noses together.

“No, but I’m still gonna kiss you”, he announced and sucked Anton’s bottom lip in between in his own in the first sweet kiss that evening. Anton was pliant beneath him, his lips falling open easily to his tongue. He languidly stroked Anton’s tongue with his own and enjoyed the way he could feel the stress leaving Anton’s muscles one after one until it started building up again. But this time it was a different kind of tension, one that Chris had been looking forward to.

“Chris,” Anton breathed, when he gave him the chance to by leaving his mouth and attacking his neck. Anton groaned a little when Chris pulled at the v-line of his shirt and suckled at his collar bone. He arched his back and pressed his chest closer into the man above him.

“You were right, you know”, he panted and ran a hand through Chris’ hair in appreciation of his actions. Chris lapped over the area of skin his teeth had been worrying a few seconds earlier and chuckled low in his throat.

“Course I was,” he mumbled, his mouth never leaving Anton’s skin, his hands busy searching for more skin. One settled under his t-shirt, stroking his ribs, while the other trailed lower, grabbing one of his thighs and kneading the flesh there.

“Bout what?” he asked and ran his tongue up Anton’s jaw line before plunging back into his mouth, making it impossible for him to answer. But at the moment he liked the wicked twirling thing Anton’s tongue did better than any answer he could have given anyway. One of Anton’s hand clung to the short hair on the back of his skull, the other came around Chris’ back and was used as leverage so that Anton could press yet a little closer to his boyfriend.

His breath was laboured and his lips red, wet, swollen and generally well-kissed when Chris finally released them and stared down at him. The strange mixture of blue-green grey in Anton’s eyes had almost entirely given way to his blown pupils that shone with the lust Chris could feel against his stomach too.

“I really do like you when you’re all messed up,” Anton growled, making it sound like “why are you still not fucking me?” and letting his legs fall further apart.

“Fuck,” the older man hissed, let go of Anton and stretched to reach inside the bedside table for the lube kept there. Anton used Chris’ momentary distraction to attach his own lips to his boyfriend’s neck and hastily opened his jeans at the same time.

“That is the general idea”, he mumbled into the skin and grazed his teeth over every part of Chris he could reach. Rather abruptly he found himself kissing air, as Chris sat back up, the bottle of lube in his hand, looking down at him. His hair was wild and his pupils had swallowed most of the electric blue – which was a good thing because Anton didn’t think he could have handled that intense stare right now. There was a new bruise forming on his neck and Anton was pretty sure there were a couple of those ornamenting his skin as well.

Before Chris had time to debate how he was going to prepare Anton and get naked at the same time, the younger man made a decision for him, pulling the lube out of his hand and shimmying out from underneath him.

“Just get out of these jeans,” he ordered and squeezed some of the clear gel onto his own hand, before lifting his hips from the bed and reaching around behind himself, pushing one finger into his body. The manner in which Chris’ eyes widened could have been comical if it weren’t for the positively sinful way he – probably subconsciously – licked his lips and stroked himself through the fabric of his jeans, momentarily forgetting his quest at the mesmerizing sight in front of him.

Anton bit his lip as he pushed a second finger in too soon, too eager and directed his hooded eyes at Chris, who was still transfixed.

“Chris,” he hissed, trying to get his boyfriend back to reality. The blonde slowly lifted his gaze from the fingers that were now slowly pushing in and out and when he met the smouldering stare aimed at him, his hands flew to his pants and tugged them off his legs as quickly as possible. Not even bothering with his t-shirt, he pried the bottle of lube from Anton’s fingers and squeezed some onto his own hand.

“You’re so fucking sexy”, he whispered into Anton’s ear before distracting his lips and teeth with his own and pushing two fingers in together with the smaller ones. Anton bit back a moan holding his breath and pulled his own fingers out, fisting his hand in Chris’ shirt, the other one coming up to grip the comforter next to his head.

Chris scissored his fingers slowly and listened closely for the wet sound mixed into their heavy breathing. He curled his fingers, lightly brushing a bundle of nerves that made Anton dig his heels into the bed and lift his whole body off the mattress. He pushed his erection against Chris hip and simultaneously trapped his lover’s between their bodies too. Chris ground down against him, ignoring the discomfort in his hand and watched Anton come undone. He pushed his fingers against Anton’s prostate again, grinning at the second hand mimicking the other’s action, almost ripping the comforter with the forceful grip. The next time Chris brushed the nerve ends, he let his hand linger a little, relishing in the way Anton gasped, bucked his hips and how his eyes rolled back into his skull. He twisted deliciously, unable to actually get away but having to enunciate in some way.

“Chris--no…” he almost begged, seemingly unsure despite his words whether he wanted more or less of this treatment.

“I could do this all night,” Chris breathed, fascinated by the flush that painted Anton’s cheek a ripe red and was visible enough in the light that flooded in from the adjoining bath room.

“Ngh~no…” Anton protested weakly and wrapped shakey legs around Chris’ hips so as to limit his movements. Chris probably would keep at this all night and some other time he’d probably let him, but not right now.

“Please, I want … fuck me,” Anton breathed and released the comforter in favour of grabbing Chris’ back and pulling him up like he was already inside of him. He rocked his hips against the slightly broader ones on top of him and raised fluttering eye lids to look at Chris.

“Christ,” the older man cursed and pulled his fingers out of the young body beneath him with a little too much fervour, if the hiss that met his eardrums was any indication. He reached for the lube to slick himself up, but Anton shook his head, tightened his hold on him and whispered “don’t bother”, so he merely stroked his still slightly slick fingers along his dick once, before sitting up, lifting Anton off the bed and slowly pushing inside him.

Chris groaned at the resistance he was met with. This was not going to work. Anton was too wound up, too tight. He stroked one of his hands over his chest and tried cooing him into relaxation, but Anton would have none of it, wound his legs tighter and pushed his body decidedly onto Chris in one fluid movement. It took a few seconds for the pain to catch up with him, and when it did, his eyes merely shot open and he held his breath, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. His arms grabbed for Chris, pulling him down on top of him again and he breathed a ragged “move”.

Move, Chris did. He started out with slow shallow thrusts, ignoring the way Anton bucked back into him and clawed at his back through his t-shirt.

“For God’s sake, Chris, _move_ ,” Anton ordered and pulled the white piece of clothing up to get to the skin hidden beneath it, raking his nails up Chris’ back and biting his shoulder through the fabric.

Chris decided not to be asked twice, grabbed Anton’s waist and drove into him in an unrelenting rhythm. He angled his thrusts and listened for the tell-tale catch in Anton’s breathing, imitating the motion that had caused it as soon as his ears caught it. Anton was obviously close, it was easy to feel in the way his hands slipped and slacked against his back. Chris was, too. Still, he slowed his thrusts down, going from a rapid staccato to a slow legato.

He leaned up to whisper into Anton’s ear, “This isn’t over yet”, like he had a point to prove. Maybe he did. Anton seemed to agree, a lazy smile playing around his lips as he went completely slack and surrendered himself to Chris. His arms hung limply around Chris neck and his hips only barely moved, more receiving Chris’ thrust than answering them.

Chris ran his hands up the sides of Anton’s chest and pushed two fingers of one of them in between Anton’s still swollen lips. The tongue that lavished them with attention was so non-passive that it almost surprised him.

He groaned at the debauched image Anton displayed under him. Chris wasn’t normally one to associate the word “innocent” with his lover, but he was still young enough for the boyish softness to be visible in his facial features. And the way his cheeks were tinged pink and his delicious curls fanned out around his face fit the picture just as well. The dilated pupils and the hollowed cheeks didn’t and thus made the sight so much more appealing.

Pulling his fingers back, he licked at Anton’s lips, moving his head back every time the younger man tried to retaliate. He kept this up until Anton released a delighted little giggle and almost regretted choosing that precise moment to pick up the pace of his thrusts again as it cut off the giggle in favour of a moan. Which really wasn’t too bad either. It raced down Chris’ spine like a motorcross driver and shot heat at all the right synapses.

“Chris,” Anton panted, raising his hands to brace himself against the head board, giving him some semblance of leverage against the deep and languid thrusts Chris had decided to deal him. Chris often wondered how Anton managed to express so much, just by the use of his name. The forgiveness for earlier that evening, the desire of this moment and the promise of everything sweet in the future. Maybe it was just Chris’ love struck brain over-interpreting.

Chris had meant to draw it out longer, to savour these moments for all they were worth, but his body got away with him and suddenly Anton was clenching down on him hard, pressing the heels of his palms into Chris’ back, his mouth open, but not a sound escaping him. Chris could feel the wetness of his release pooling between their bodies and the aftershocks rippling through him like a pulse. It was Anton whispering his name, though, that pulled him over the edge after his lover.

Anton groaned at Chris’ seed spilling inside of him and mentally hit his brain for immediately thinking of a shower.

“I love you,” he whispered into the sweat soaked skin of Chris’ neck and bit at the cotton of his t-shirt. Chris carefully pulled out of him and sat up next to him, smiling down at Anton, cum dribbling from between his thighs and splashed all over his stomach.

“You look like a whore,” he grinned tenderly, running his fingers through the mess on Anton’s stomach, before painting his lips with it and leaning down to kiss it off again.

“And whose fault is that?” Anton asked sarcastically, running his tongue over his lips automatically.

“Yours,” Chris replied. He ran his hand through Anton’s sweaty curls and connected their eyes, enjoying the blissed out smile on the younger one’s face.

“I love you, too,” he offered quietly and was glad to hear Anton sigh an affectionate “I know”. It was important that Anton knew. And that he didn’t forget.

“So it was a good thing I punched that guy, after all,” he mused aloud and offered a smile to Anton’s “too soon to joke about this” eyebrow.

“It’s a good thing you’re so irresistibly pretty with blood all over your face,” Anton sighed. Chris grinned and flicked his nose.

“Shower?” he offered and shook his head, laughing at the dirty grin that earned him.

“God, get your mind out of the gutter, Yelchin,” Chris teased, watching Anton sit up slowly, testily. He slid his legs off the bed and grinned back at his lover over his shoulder.

“But it rather likes it there,” he replied before sauntering off into the bathroom.

Stage blood, Chris thought. He’d have to make sure to get some.

+++

The End.


End file.
